Unexpected
by hyacinthian
Summary: It finally happens one day. She says yes. JoFargo


He shows up in the office one day on her lunch break. She squishes the magazines Zoe got her into the drawer and slams it closed. Carter coughs back his laugh. She rolls her eyes, wrinkles her brow. "Yes, Fargo?"

He shuffles his feet, tries to move closer and trips over the floor. "Uh, Jo. I--There's this thing at Global coming up and I just wanted to see if you, uh, wanted to, erm, go."

"In general?"

"Uh, with me." He casts his gaze down at the floor and she can feel her cheeks warm. This would already be an awkward situation and it doesn't help that Carter's sitting there, his tuna melt in his hands, mouth agape, perched on the edge of his seat. Damn it, she thinks.

"No, Fargo."

"Well, I mean, after the...thing...you were--I mean, it wasn't my dream."

She sighs. "Fargo."

He presses his lips together, clicks his tongue against his teeth. "Right. I--My break is up." He zips out the door faster than a hungry dog to Vincent's filet mignon.

Carter lets out a soft chuckle before taking another bite of his tuna melt. "You should've gone with him," he mumbles.

She arches a brow. "Carter?"

"Yeah, Jo?"

"It's none of your business."

"Fair enough."

Two months later, Fargo runs his fingers along the bars in the jail cell while Allison and Jack pace back and forth in the background, clearly arguing, as Jo reads the paper at the desk. "Jo?"

"Fargo." She turns the page.

"Do you think I can go to the bathroom?"

"There's a toilet in there."

"But I can't--you can see me."

"I'm not going to look."

"Can't you just let me out to go to the bathroom?"

"You're a suspect, Fargo."

"I didn't even do anything!"

Carter turns to look at him, hands on his hips. "Fargo, you almost blew Eureka up!"

"It wasn't my fault!"

Jack groans and turns back to the argument. "Sheriff Carter?"

"Yes, Fargo."

"Can I go to the bathroom?"

"There's a thing!"

"I can't go while you're all watching."

Allison makes a face of disgust. "Fargo."

"Trust me. No one's watching."

"Please?"

Jack groans again. "Jo, just take him to the bathroom."

She makes a face, sets down the newspaper with more force than necessary, leads him (handcuffed) to the bathroom and directs him to get to it.

"Jo?"

"Just do it, Fargo."

He asks her out again two weeks later.

She accepts him six months later.

It's only a dinner, but it's been somewhere near a year and a half in the making. He takes her out to someplace outside Eureka where they sit and talk a little (and he's still so awkward, it makes her a little uncomfortable). She sets her hand on top of his when he starts another babbling ramble about the way proper science-fiction television has gone down in quality recently, tells him it's okay, downs another glass of wine. She feels pleasantly warm.

She walks with him through the city after dinner. He takes her hand in a manner all too assertive to be properly Douglas Fargo-esque, but she takes it and doesn't ask questions.

"You're really beautiful, you know," he says, softly. She blushes. (If only her mother could be here.)

He kicks at the dirt on the ground. "I'm sorry," he apologizes.

"For what?"

"I just--I don't want them to talk about us."

"Who?" But he doesn't answer, just moves in closer until their noses are practically touching (and she knows what's going to happen now, she knows, and doesn't really care) and nudges her slightly until she's tingling with anticipation. He closes the distance, closes his lips around hers (is that really her softly sighing?), and while he doesn't pull her closer, she moves closer. His hands finally dare to tangle themselves in her hair. When he pulls away, he looks into her eyes.

"I want to go home," she says.

(He mistakes her reaction.)

"Okay." He leads her to the car.

He drives back slowly, steadily. She watches him when she can (the road gets boring after a while), his hands gripping the steering wheel, his jaw clenching, his slow, deliberate blinks. The silence gets to be deafening, so he turns on the radio. Lil Wayne blares inappropriately in the background. She sees him cringe, fiddle with the dial. Passing Kid Rock and Miley Cyrus, he settles on some old Mariah Carey song. He half-shrugs in apology.

They arrive in Eureka faster than she expects and he idles in front of her house. He forces a small smile. "Thanks for...saying yes."

She smiles. "Thanks for taking me," she whispers, in that soft rasp of hers.

He clears his throat, pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Well." He makes that odd half-smile again. "I hope you had a good time."

She rolls her eyes, turns off the engine. He looks puzzled.

"Jo?"

She grabs his tie with one hand, pulls her towards him, lips crashing on lips. She feels his moderate surprise though he recovers quickly, manuevering around her. She wriggles onto his lap, leans against the steering wheel. In the midst of their frenzied kissing, she leans back, the car horn sounding and startling them both. She laughs softly and he smiles. "Come inside." She disentangles from him and goes to open her front door.

He meets her on the porch, vaguely remembering to lock the car doors. She shuts the door and locks it behind him, chuckling awkwardly. "You want anything to eat or drink or...?"

He doesn't say anything, moves in quick, confident steps towards her, kisses her (to her surprise), his hands dipping to the small of her back. When they pull away, his lips skim the delicate skin of her neck as she grinds wantonly against him. "This anything like your dream?" he asks, voice low.

"You saw my dream. You already know the answer."

He makes a noncommittal noise, reaches around to start undoing her dress. She tugs him towards the bedroom. He looks around, the various clothing skewed everywhere. "Oh, shit," she murmurs. He laughs.

"Don't worry about it."

A slight flush. "This is so embarrassing." He sits down on her bed, grabs her by the hand, pulls her down with him. She kisses him then, short fleeting kisses that feel almost like fizz in soda. (He can't really explain it either.) She reaches up, slides his glasses off, sets them on her nightstand. "You...?"

His laugh is a soft rumble against her skin. "Nearsighted. We're good." She echoes his laughter. He slides the dress off her skin, soft and supple beneath his touch, manuevers them around to be on top. He kisses her neck, her shoulder, slides his hand down her arm. She shivers, leans up to kiss him. He kisses the tip of her nose, the hollow of her throat, her collarbone.

He treats her delicately, like she's something to be broken. It's different, but the attention doesn't disgust her. It's amazing - for the total klutz that Douglas Fargo is in the outside world, his movements are deliberate and direct in the bedroom. He is almost fluid, hips swaying gently, rocking against her as her raspy voice makes soft noises in the dark.

He knows the right places to touch, to kiss, and for her part, she's finding it incredibly difficult to form words, thoughts beyond touch me here or oh god don't stop and other similar sentiments. Her hands pull at his hair and his hands slowly undo her.

And when they move together, a slow building tide, his breath is hot against her collarbone as her breaths become more shallow and her movements more frenzied. He still maintains control, as best he can, moving deliberately and slowly so she can feel it in every fiber of her being. She groans, murmurs death threats in his ear, claws his back, but he is unfazed. When he finally speeds up, she feels herself so close, arching her back, forcing him faster.

Afterwards, lying in her sheets, sticky and sated, she turns to him with a smile. "You surprise me, Fargo."

"Yeah?" A slow smile.

"Yeah."

"Good surprise or bad surprise?"

She laughs. "Stop fishing for compliments." He burrows his head in the crook of her neck, kisses her.

Work the next day is pretty uneventful for both of them. Fargo has gotten used to people yelling at him and Jo's gotten used to Carter and everything's to be expected, as much as can be possible when genius scientists are involved. Carter eats his turkey sandwich quietly over his lunch break when he comes to bring her a bagel ("I accidentally got two," is his excuse as he shuffles his feet and trips over the same wooden plank as yesterday). She rolls her eyes. Carter casually turns a page of his newspaper.

"So," he remarks. "Fargo, saw your car wasn't by your house this morning."

Jo arches an eyebrow. "You frequently scout his house?"

"A routine check-up."

"Uh-huh." Fargo bites into his bagel, cream cheese oozing to plop loudly on the floor.

"You're going to clean that up." Fargo nods. "And I found your car in a really unusual place."

"Where is that?"

"Outside Jo's." Jo blanches, coughs on her water before she takes a couple large gulps. "Nice, Jo."

"Carter."

"What?"

"Whatever you think--"

"I think this is going to take some time to get used to." He rubs at his eyes with the back of his hand. Fargo clears his throat. Jo blinks a few times, thinking over the situation.

She takes him outside, gives him a soft kiss. Carter's voice wafts over from the office. "That's not helping!"


End file.
